


98. Reward

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [98]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	98. Reward

_**Sam and Ryan[](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)**_[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/): reward  
 **players only. current. takes place after[this log.](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/22267.html)**

  


Normally, Sam heads for the shower first thing in the morning. Rolls out of bed and heads straight for the bathroom. And he still does that but stops short of taking his shower, instead heading downstairs to find Ryan sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open in front of him. "After last night, you're still up before me?" he teases, dropping a kiss on the back of Ryan's neck.

"Habit," Ryan answers, looking up to give his lover a grin. He catches Sam's hand and tugs him back in for another kiss, a proper good morning.

Sam deepens the kiss with a smile then slowly pulls back. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Ryan whispers. "I mean, really fucking sore," he admits, "but... good. That was really intense."

"Yeah, it was." Sam grins. "You were incredible." His grin growing wider. "So, sore as in you can't move, or just sore?"

"Sore enough that I skipped yoga," Ryan says ruefully, turning around on the kitchen stool to face Sam fully. "I don't think I'm going to go running, either." His lips curve. "Why?"

"No reason," Sam says, biting back a smile. "I'll just go have my shower..."

"You came all the way downstairs to tell me you're taking a shower?" Ryan asks. He slips off the stool and slides his arms around Sam's waist, pulling him in close. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam smiles. "I was going to offer you your reward, but it seems like it might be better timing to do it tonight."

"My reward?" Ryan tangles his fingers in Sam's hair and kisses him, long and deep. Yeah, he remembers what Sam promised him. He trails his hand down Sam's back to cup his ass. "You sure you want me making you scream right before you go to work?"

"I'm supposed to be yelling all day anyway," Sam says, grinding lightly against Ryan. "Might actually be good for my voice to be hoarse. Of course, if you want to wait..." he adds, making like he's going to pull away.

"Not so fast." If Ryan were the one getting fucked this morning, then yeah, he might actually break character and ask for a delay. But seeing as the tables are turned... "Bend over the counter." The kitchen opens wide onto the living room and its airy windows, so at least Sam won't be getting a faceful of cupboard.

"Yes, sir," Sam says with a smile. He leans over the counter, hands cupping the edge on the other side, his legs spread wide, hips tilted back, his cock already half-hard.

"Fucking gorgeous," Ryan whispers, stepping up behind him and drawing Sam's boxers down his legs. There's lube in one of the drawers - Ryan has it stashed all over the house - and he slicks his fingers. Leaning in, he licks Sam's neck as he rubs one fingertip against his hole.

Sam tenses, just a little, even though he wants it. Unable to argue with his body's instincts. But he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, pushing back and out a little, feeling the tension ease. 

"That's it, baby," Ryan murmurs. "Let me in." He rubs a small circle around Sam's hole but only just presses inside, dipping into that tight heat and then teasing out again. Slowly pressing kisses to Sam's nape, his throat. He dares to bite his lover's shoulder, gently at first and then harder.

Sam groans, the sound already deep and ragged, his body opening for Ryan, every kiss, every bite spurring the arousal coiling in his groin. 

"Christ, you're so sexy." Ryan nuzzles Sam's throat, pushing one long finger deep inside. "I just want to take you. Fucking own you," he whispers, gently pressing a second finger in.

"Oh, fuck," Sam mutters under his breath, pressing back, his cock jerking hard as Ryan's fingers brush over his prostate. "Want you to mark me," he whispers.

"Today?" Ryan asks, wanting to be sure. He works his fingers in and out, gradually spreading them apart.

Sam nods, gasping softly at the stretch of Ryan's fingers.

"Yes," Ryan whispers. God, yes. He strokes his free hand over Sam's shoulders, down his chest. Caressing his knuckles over the length of Sam's cock, back and forth. He twists his wrist and adds a third finger.

Sam groans again, the sound muffled against the marble of the counter. He whimpers, pain searing through his frame for a moment, his body fighting the added intrusion, his cock dripping, aching. "Fuck me," he whispers, the words both a curse and a demand.

"And you claim you're not a masochist," Ryan mutters, corkscrewing his fingers in twice more. He slicks another layer of lube over his erection before lining up, rubbing the head over Sam's hole before he grits his teeth and pushes inside, breaking through the resistance with a shout.

"It's you I want," Sam grits out, moaning when Ryan's cock breaches his body, forcing its way inside him. "Not the pain. You." Although he can't deny the way his cock jerks, drips even more as the pain lances through him. But it's not something he craves on its own. Not something he needs. Unless it comes from his lover.

"God, yes." Ryan trails his fingers lightly down Sam's spine, breathing hard as he takes a long moment just to _look_ at his lover, the intoxicating way Sam is stretched out before him. When he can't stand to wait anymore, he begins to move, slowly pushing in until his balls are pressed up against Sam's, then drawing back. Again.

"Oh, god," Sam groans, shuddering out a breath, his face pressed against the cool marble of the counter. It feels so good, too good, like Ryan's reaching so deep inside him and he just barely stops the whine, the whimper, spilling from his lips when Ryan pulls back. "Fuck..." _Don't._

"I've got you," Ryan whispers, slowly rocking his hips against Sam's ass, fucking him deep and barely pulling back before pressing deep again. "My baby." He smooths his hands over Sam's hips, caressing his skin.

No one's ever called him that. Ever. And it still feels kind of weird to hear it. But this is Ryan. Ryan fucking him so deeply, so perfectly, giving him exactly what he wants, what he needs. Slowly and surely making him fall apart.

Sam's back is an expanse of smooth unmarked skin. It sets Ryan's imagination on fire as he pictures where he could bruise his lover, what he could do... His favourite spot is the vulnerable flesh of Sam's throat, and that's sadly not an option while his lover is filming. His second favourite spot... he'll get to that. He hitches Sam's hips back, fucking him harder and searching for that perfect angle.

Sam gasps, angling his hips back for more. He still doesn't move though. Just spreads his legs and takes it, his whole world narrowed to the hot hard pounding of Ryan's cock.

"Oh fuck yes," Ryan gasps. "Fuck. _Yes_." He leans down and licks Sam's shoulder, at the same time reaching around to fist Sam's cock. He was promised screams.

Sam cries out, the touch spurring him to motion. He slams back, taking Ryan as deep as he can, forcing his hole to stretch even more, the pain making his cock jerk and throb in Ryan's grip. "Please, fuck, _harder_..."

Groaning, Ryan tightens his hand into a ring at the base of Sam's balls. With his other hand he spreads Sam's cheeks, dipping his thumb inside and holding his lover open for each brutal drive in.

Sam clenches his jaw and grits his teeth, trying to hold back, but it's useless. Soon the air is full of his cries, his grunts, his shouts as Ryan fucks him so hard he'd swear he's going to shatter. "Yes, fuck, oh god," he moans, rolling his cheek against the counter, his orgasm there, right fucking there.

Fuck, Sam is so fucking hot. Ryan bites back on his climax, feeling it start to spin out of control. He puts his hands back on Sam's hips, holding him in place as he folds himself over his lover and sinks his teeth into Sam's shoulder.

Sam's shout fills the room, his come spraying the front of the cabinet as he arches up from the counter and into that bite, hole clenching tight around Ryan. His orgasm slams through him in waves, each one cresting higher and higher until his whole body's shaking with the intensity.

With a whimper Ryan pulls back, thrusting through Sam's aftershocks. He barely makes it and then he follows his lover over the edge, spilling hot inside him with a fierce shout of possession.

Sam groans again, the sound almost broken as he feels the wetness fill him, Ryan marking him inside and out. He reaches back, grasping Ryan's hip, holding him deep. Willing him not to move.

Lingering shocks of lust pulse slowly through Ryan. He moves his hand to cover Sam's, linking their fingers together. And he tries to catch his breath.

Fuck. Sam just lies there, feeling Ryan's cock throb inside him, his own jerking lightly in response. "I think you broke me," he murmurs finally, not entirely sure the words are intelligible.

Ryan grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Sam's nape. "Don't die on me yet," he murmurs. "I'm not finished with you." Slowly he eases out of his lover's body. Then he drops to his knees and licks up a trail of come from Sam's inner thigh.

"Oh, god," Sam groans, eyes almost rolling back into his head at the feel of Ryan's tongue on his skin. Christ. What the fuck was he doing thinking this was a good idea before work?

Working his way up, Ryan laps at Sam's hole, dipping his tongue just inside. Cleaning up every last drop before rising to his feet.

Slowly Sam pushes up from the counter as well. He feels like he's been through the ringer and it's not even seven a.m. He turns around to face Ryan, smiling at his lover, not quite sure how he's standing when he feels so fucking boneless. "Mm. God," he says, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist and pulling him close, the words not anything even remotely close to what he'd intended.

"You're amazing," Ryan whispers, kissing Sam's hair, caressing his back. "You give so much to me." It amazes him, every time.

"I trust you," Sam whispers, leaning against Ryan a little more heavily than he usually would.

Coming from Sam, those three words are as powerful and loaded with meaning as _I love you_. Ryan smiles faintly, his heart clutching into a tight knot in his chest. And he hugs his lover closer.

Sam burrows in against Ryan's chest. Wishes like hell he could call in sick and just stay home, here, close to his lover all day, but he's never fucked off work before and he's not about to start now. "Come shower with me?"

"I don't think you need it," Ryan teases, sliding his hands down Sam's arms. He links their fingers together. "I did a pretty good job cleaning you up."

Sam smiles. "You just want to send me to work smelling like you," he says, raising his head to kiss Ryan.

Grinning, Ryan nods. "Guilty," he admits, but he leads his lover down the hall to the master bath anyway.

Sam stays close to Ryan the whole time, arms around him while he starts the shower, gets the water just right. Reluctant to stop touching him.

Lathering up his hands, Ryan smooths them down over Sam's shoulders and back, soaping up his lover's skin. He's thorough, working his way down Sam's body, turning cleaning into a massage. On his knees in the pounding shower spray, he gently cleans Sam's cock and his ass, lingering perhaps more than is absolutely necessary.

"Mm. Fuck," Sam murmurs, head back against the tile as Ryan cleans him. "You take such good care of me."

Few things in life make Ryan happier than this. He carefully cleans one foot, then the other, before standing up and soaping his hands again, this time to take care of himself. "I love taking care of you," he murmurs, kissing Sam softly on the lips. To Ryan, it's one more way of making Sam his.

Sam smiles. "Do you have plans for the day?"

"Mostly the usual." Ryan shrugs and rinses shampoo from his hair. "Try to do some writing. Plan dinner. Harass my agent. Oh, and I have to start researching just what it is that personal assistants do."

Sam nods. For some reason, he really doesn't want to leave Ryan today but it sounds like his lover has a full day planned. "You do realize it's just a title," he says softly.

Ryan frowns. "We can argue about that later," he replies, just as softly. Reaching past Sam, he turns off the taps, then steps out of the shower to gather up a large fluffy bath sheet. "Come here," he invites, holding the towel open for Sam to step into.

Sam moves into the towel, letting Ryan wrap it around him, dry him off. He feels weird, off, out of sorts and he's not sure why.

Biting his lip, Ryan holds Sam close, nominally drying him off. "What's wrong?" he asks in a whisper, unnerved by how uncharacteristically passive his lover is being.

"I don't know," Sam whispers back. He swallows hard against the tightness in his throat. "I just. I don't want to go to work, I don't want to leave you," he says, pressing close.

"Okay." Concerned, Ryan hugs him tighter, then pushes the towel to the floor and links their fingers together. "C'mon. Come lie down with me." He leads his lover out to their bed, lying back and pulling Sam to cuddle up against his chest.

Sam shudders out a long breath against Ryan's skin, as close to clinging to his lover as he ever gets. Fuck. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't apologize to me," Ryan protests softly. That alone bothers him as much as all the rest put together. Keeping one arm tight around his lover, he reaches and grabs Sam's cell phone off the nightstand. "I'm calling you in sick," he says, scrolling through Sam's contact list. "Who do I need to speak to?"

"Bonnie. Jonathan's P.A.," Sam says, already panicking a little. He's never missed a fucking day of work. Ever. But maybe he really _is_ sick.

Finding the number for Bonnie, Ryan rings her up. "Hi, this is Ryan Kwanten, I'm Sam Worthington's P.A. Sam is really ill and he won't be able to make it to the set today." He nods, listening to her response. "Right. I'll keep you posted." He hangs up and lays the phone back on the table. "Done. Now you can relax, love." He wraps Sam up in his arms again.

"Thank you," Sam whispers, pressing in as close as he can to Ryan. He feels guilty about inconveniencing everyone on set but they're far enough along they can shoot around him for a day and he knows he wouldn't have done them any good like this.

Ryan caresses Sam's back, long soothing strokes. He's fucking scared. He's never seen Sam like this before. But at the same time, he doesn't seem exactly _sick_... "Are you in pain anywhere, baby?"

Sam shakes his head, closing his eyes and just listening to Ryan's heartbeat. "...just tired," he mumbles. And his head hurts, but it's not exactly pain, more of a dull throb.

"Okay. I've got you, love," Ryan murmurs. He kisses Sam's forehead. "Just sleep. I'll hold you."

Good. Knowing Ryan's not going anywhere lets Sam relax. He snuggles in even closer and drops off within seconds.

The steady even sound of Sam's breathing reassures Ryan, and slowly he relaxes as well. Not to sleep, though; his mind is a riot of questions and worries. But gradually realization settles: an understanding that he has seen this behaviour before, many times. In himself. The epiphany makes him breathe a little easier, and he shuts his eyes to just savour the feeling of his lover in his arms.

When Sam wakes again, it's with a slight start. But he's still cradled against Ryan's chest so he settles, slowly coming back to himself, the events of the morning cloaked in a weird haze. He's supposed to be at work. Vaguely remembers Ryan calling him in sick but he doesn't really feel sick now, just a little out of it.

"Hey," Ryan whispers, not wanting to disturb Sam if he's headed back into a doze. He trails his fingertips lightly along Sam's nape.

Sam shifts, moving his head back onto Ryan's shoulder and looking up at his lover. "Hey," he whispers back. "What time is it?"

"Like..." Ryan cranes his neck to check the clock, "11:15." He smiles down at Sam. "You never had breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"Not really," Sam says, which is pretty strange for him. "Sorry about this morning," he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed. "I don't know what happened. I just. I don't know. I felt really weird."

Rolling Sam to his back, Ryan props his chin in his hand and looks down at his lover. "I wish you'd stop apologizing," he says softly. "There's no reason for it. I think..." he distracts himself by tracing an aimless pattern over Sam's chest. And he hopes and prays he's not about to get himself in serious trouble. "I think maybe you experienced a little sub-drop."

Sam blinks at Ryan. "But all we did was _fuck_ ," he blurts out, never mind that he's not submissive, and it wasn't really a scene, and there was no major pain involved. "I don't." He stops, exhaling heavily. "You really think so?" he asks, thinking about the intensity, how he'd felt like Ryan was taking him apart, like he'd shattered when he came.

Ryan nods. "At least half the time when you fuck me, I slip down. I mean, yeah, I'm a sub, but my point is that it's just that fucking intense with you. I always need you to hold me afterwards just until I can get my shit together again." He splays his hand over Sam's chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath.

"It _was_ really intense," Sam says quietly, nodding, both strangely relieved and uncomfortable at the notion. Fuck. "And I guess I haven't had to go anywhere any other time..."

"Mmm." Ryan's lips curve. "Maybe I should only top you at night," he suggests, only half teasing. He kisses Sam's shoulder then has to go back for more, licking along his collarbone.

Sam feels his cheeks flush hot. "It was probably just a one-time thing," he protests, although he won't be able to take the chance. "Mm." A small shiver running through him at the touch of Ryan's tongue.

Sitting up, Ryan looks quizzically down at his lover. "You're blushing," he murmurs, and a frown crosses his face. "Do you think it makes you less of a dominant? Less _my_ dominant?"

Does he? Sam doesn't know. He likes to think of himself as self-assured, confident, as not caring what others think. But right now, he's embarrassed. He lost control, he missed work, he left it up to Ryan to take care of him when he's supposed to take care of Ryan.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Ryan watches the play of emotions spread across Sam's face. And he sees the doubt there. "Never mind," he whispers, thinking he already knows the answer -- and doesn't want to hear it. "Roll over," he says brightly. "You haven't had a proper massage in ages."

Sam shakes his head. "No. Look. It doesn't make me less of a dominant or less your dominant, but maybe it does make me more submissive than I thought I was. And I know it's only with you, but it's still... it's an adjustment," he says softly. "It doesn't mean I'm regretting anything or that I'm not going to want you to fuck me anymore. It just means I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

"Okay," Ryan whispers. "I get that." He fiddles with the coverlet, pulling on a loose string. After a long moment, he looks up to meet his lover's eyes again. "Now will you roll over?"

Sam nods and flips over onto his stomach. He still feels odd, like he's stepped wrong or put his foot in his mouth. Maybe it just really freaked Ryan out, seeing him that way.

Straddling Sam low on his hips, Ryan reaches over to get a bottle of massage oil from the bedside table. He warms a thin layer of oil on his hands, then starts high, right at the base of Sam's neck. When he feels lost and flailing after a scene, he needs his lover's touch reassuring him. Maybe his caresses can do the same for Sam.

"Mm." Ryan's hands feel good, solid and warm on his skin, and Sam forces himself to relax, to quiet the voices in his head and focus on the pleasure.

"I know it's difficult for you, but I think it's really good that you're taking a little time for yourself," Ryan says softly. He works his thumb over a knot in Sam's shoulder. "This shoot has been so long, and really intense. You need space just to breathe." And to be pampered by his boy, of course. Ryan revels in this.

Sam nods, groaning as he feels the tension ease. He knows Ryan's right but still... "I've never missed work before."

"I know," Ryan says. "Which means that no one's going to think any less of you for doing it today. They all know you, know your reputation. They know they can count on you to show up tomorrow and give 110%." He smooths his hands down his lover's spine, then again up to his shoulders.

"Yeah," Sam murmurs, smiling, melting into the bed as Ryan's hands move over him. He chuckles softly. "My first time playing hooky."

"Feels naughty, doesn't it?" Ryan teases.

Sam nods. "You're a bad influence," he teases back, his cock slowly starting to fill with the way Ryan's pressed against him. "Fuck me through the counter, make me miss work..."

"Love you till you can't see straight," Ryan whispers, dropping a kiss on Sam's nape.

"That too," Sam agrees, lifting and turning his head for another kiss.

Smiling, Ryan licks between Sam's lips. He eases off of him and lies down, wiping his hands on the sheet before embracing his lover.

"I love you so much," Sam whispers, kissing Ryan again, tongue delving into his mouth as he presses closer, grinding against him. Letting Ryan feel what he does to him.

Ryan is surprised to feel the hard length of Sam's erection against him. After this morning, and then the discussion just now... He should never be surprised with Sam, he realizes. "I love you too," he whispers, closing his fingers around Sam's cock.

Sam groans into Ryan's mouth, biting at his lips, spearing his cock through the circle of Ryan's fingers. "How sore are you?" he whispers.

"Really fuckin' sore," Ryan answers honestly. Just the thought of taking something in his hole right now makes him panic a little. "But if you need to, it's okay. I can." Maybe it's exactly what Sam needs to start feeling on top again, as it were.

Sam shakes his head. Pushes Ryan onto his back and moves between his legs but reaches for the massage oil instead. "Is this okay to use on our cocks?"

"Yeah, of course," Ryan breathes, his heart already starting to race. He props up on his elbows, avidly watching his lover.

Sam pours a good amount of the oil into the palm of one hand and then rubs both hands together. He smiles at Ryan, wrapping one hand around his own cock and one around his lover's, coating them in the oil as his hands move steadily up and down their lengths.

With a groan Ryan drops his head back. "That feels so fuckin' good," he whispers. Reaching out, he lays his hand on Sam's thigh, caressing him.

"Yeah, it does," Sam murmurs, slowly working both cocks in his hands, the oil smoothing his path, making his strokes nice and easy and oh fuck... so good. He leans forward, dropping down to kiss Ryan, to twist his lover's bottom lip between his teeth.

"Still want to mark you more," Ryan whispers against Sam's lips. "Sometime. Want to mark your cock again." He can't even quite explain the urge, and just chalks it up to his endless fascination with Sam's prick.

Sam groans and nods. "Soon," he promises, letting go of their cocks and wiping his hands on their sheets. Bracing himself, he angles his hips until he's got his cock right up against Ryan's, one thrust sliding them together.

Ryan moans, slick lust pooling in his belly. He hooks his leg around Sam's thighs, rocking with him.

His breath coming harder and faster, Sam thrusts again and again, their cock slick-sliding along each other, the friction absolutely incredible. "Oh, fuck," he groans, rubbing the heads together.

"Sam," Ryan gasps, arching his back against the bed. He jerks against his lover. "Sir, please!"

Sam nods. "Come for me," he orders, thrusting harder, sweat and oil and precome smearing across both their bellies. "Do it."

Crying out, Ryan sprays hot against Sam's stomach. His head swims but he tries to focus, wanting to watch his lover as he comes. "Sir!"

Sam knows exactly what Ryan wants and he doesn't make him wait long. He gives another couple of rough thrusts, driving through the hot mess between them and comes, adding his own seed to the mix.

Fuck. _Fuck!_ Ryan moans, his prick giving a last throb. Still breathless, he drags his finger through the sticky puddle on his belly, then takes a taste, painting his lips.

"Dirty boy," Sam murmurs, his cock jumping between them at the sight. "Dirty, dirty boy," he whispers, leaning in and licking across Ryan's lips, tasting both of them with a soft ragged groan.

Ryan grins and wraps his arms around his lover, pulling him down. "Love you," he whispers, licking at Sam's mouth. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah." Sam smiles. "I do." Kissing Ryan again. "I'm also fucking starving."

"That's my Sam," Ryan says, laughing. "Come on, baby. I'll take care of you."  



End file.
